


The Tastes of Aliens

by out_there



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-23
Updated: 2007-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the best things about having a team was being able to observe them unnoticed. Like a nature documentary: watching them in their natural habitat. It was fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tastes of Aliens

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://researchgrrrl.livejournal.com/profile)[**researchgrrrl**](http://researchgrrrl.livejournal.com/) for inspiring, shamelessly encouraging and reminding me that Jack + fingers + licking is a great combination. Thanks to [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[**oxoniensis**](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/) for Britpicking and betaing as needed.
> 
> Now recorded as an [audiofic](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=0L0XR9J0) by [](http://jadesfire2808.livejournal.com/profile)[**jadesfire2808**](http://jadesfire2808.livejournal.com/)!

One of the best things about having a team was being able to observe them unnoticed. Like a nature documentary: watching them in their natural habitat. It was fun.

Jack loved those nature documentaries. It was deliciously voyeuristic to sit down and watch other species on the privacy of your own screen. The hyenas were personal favourites; they seemed to get so much enjoyment from hunting, devouring and fornicating for the nation's entertainment.

The monkeys weren't bad either. Seeing them gather around food, screeching and grabbing it from each other always left Jack with a fond glow of familiarity: it was almost exactly the way his team behaved around new technology. It was certainly the way they'd behaved this morning when the Elkahian translocator flashed, beeped and then (supposedly) atomised the conference table.

Jack had been in his office on a call to the PM, discussing VAT obligations and bored out of his mind. By the time he'd apologised and made his excuses (for some reason saying "My team are screaming like over-excited chimpanzees because they've found something shiny" didn't inspire confidence from politicians), the couch and coffee table had disappeared, a three-way tug-of-war was underway for the device, and Ianto was throwing worried glances towards the espresso machine.

It had taken nearly ten minutes to explain:  
1) Nothing had been destroyed.  
2) The items had been moved. After all, it was called a trans **locator** , people.  
3) There was no way of tracking where the items had been moved to, but they'd be within a twenty metre radius.  
4) Experimenting with sparkly new technology shouldn't happen while Jack was talking to world leaders.

They found the coffee table on the roof and the couch in the autopsy room. The boardroom table was still missing but the hub had many sub-basements. Luckily, Jack knew a couple of primates with the time to search each and every cell.

They couldn't find the table in any of the first three levels and no one had wanted to try moving the couch back up the autopsy room's curving staircase, so today's take-away was being served in the autopsy room. Gwen didn't fancy it, but the autopsy room was the only area that Owen left spotless so she’d been overruled.

Now Jack was sitting on the cold stairs of the autopsy room, breathing in the sharp chemical smell of bleach, fake-lemons and the warmer smell of Black Bean Beef. He'd been sitting there for ten minutes, enjoying the benefits of leading a team (showing "good managerial skills" by "staying informed"; in other words, eavesdropping).

Owen, who had strong opinions on the matter, had clearly brought up the topic of conversation. "It's oysters," he said.

"That is such a cliche." From the sound of it, Gwen was talking with her mouth half-full. "Oysters? Everybody goes for oysters."

"Sexiest food," said Owen. "It's got to be oysters."

Gwen tsked. "Aren't you forgetting champagne? Now _that's_ romantic."

"Alcohol isn't a food, love," Owen said sarcastically. "I know they both have calories and you might've got confused, but you can't live off the stuff."

"Like you could live off of oysters."

"Actually," Tosh started to say, "there was a report--"

"Tosh," Gwen said gently, Welsh accent smoothing the word out. "Don't encourage him to be a bigger prat than he already is."

There was a moment of silence. Jack could imagine the glares being exchanged between Gwen and Owen. It wouldn't go further than glares though – Jack was quite certain they'd both put hot Chinese before sarcasm.

It was a while before Ianto said, "I'm rather fond of a good seafood marinara."

Jack grinned, remembering a particular impromptu picnic on his office floor. It had been the best type of picnic: one that started with seafood marinara, evolved to tomato-flavoured kissing and ended with both of them sweaty and naked.

Twisting on the step, Jack sat up a little taller. If he stretched, he could see the four of them sitting around the couch and the take away Chinese spread across the autopsy table. Gwen and Owen had each claimed a seat and Tosh was sitting between them, her elbows tight against her sides. Ianto had lifted the chair down from Owen’s workstation.

Ianto didn't look embarrassed; he looked faintly amused. Moreover, he was watching the autopsy drawers, which was odd. It would have been both odd and macabre, but Jack knew they were currently empty of bodies. Gwen had made sure of it before agreeing to eat lunch down there.

Turning slowly, Jack followed Ianto's eye line and then -- in the gloss of the metal door -- he saw Ianto's reflection. Meaning Ianto could see him too. Jack winked.

Ianto's expression didn't falter.

"Strawberries," Tosh said, and then cleared her throat. "I mean, they're sweet and juicy and... definitely, you know. Sexy."

"Huh," Owen said, giving a low, considering hum as he stretched an arm across the back of the couch. "Now I'm imagining you, a bowl of strawberries, a lot of whipped cream and that alien chick."

Gwen darted past Tosh and cuffed Owen across the back of the head. She really had great reflexes. "Owen!"

"Oi! I was in a happy place, thank you very much."

"Yeah, imagining your co-workers naked."

"Like that's something new."

Jack decided it was time to intervene. Otherwise, Gwen and Owen would be sniping at each other all afternoon while Tosh blushed and stumbled over her words. It wasn't a bad look on Tosh -- quite appealing, actually -- but Jack could live without the sniping.

Standing up, he sauntered down the stairs and said, "Brussel sprouts."

The four of them turned to him, surprised. Well, three of them looked surprised; Ianto still looked amused.

Owen was the one who asked. "What the hell?"

"Sexiest food: Brussels sprouts." Sitting down at the table, Jack helped himself to a spring roll. There were a few opened containers left on the table and three spring rolls. Ianto always made sure there was enough for everyone. "You would be amazed at what a Gthorian would do for a handful of Brussels sprouts. They're double-jointed, you know."

"You can't go around using Earth foods to bribe aliens into..." Gwen trailed off, looking very uncomfortable. "It's... it's culinary prostitution, that's what it is. You can't do it."

"If someone's going to offer me something that they would've offered anyway in exchange for something I was already going to give them, why should I say no?" Picking up another spring roll, Jack glanced over at the others. Owen was watching him with narrowed eyes, clearly weighing up whether or not he believed the story; the girls both looked mildly outraged, Gwen more so than Tosh. Ianto looked more interested in his fried rice than the conversation. "It'd be rude to refuse. Just basic courtesy."

"Don't we have--" Gwen paused, and Jack was glad to notice she was back to using 'we', not 'you'. "Company policy or employee guidelines? Isn't there something that says we're not allowed to trade technology for sex?"

"I wasn't trading technology. Torchwood has rules against that." Jack shrugged and helped himself to the chicken and cashews, eschewing chopsticks in favour of using fingers. If it tasted good, he made it a personal policy to use fingers as much as possible. "No rules against Brussel sprouts."

"I can't believe you used the most disgusting vegetable in existence to get sex." Owen paused, swallowing, and then added, "No, really. I literally can't believe it."

"You think I'm lying?" Jack asked, idly licking the sauce off his fingers. Gwen rolled her eyes affectionately at the gesture but it was Ianto’s reaction -- head tilted down, chopsticks paused in mid-shovel, narrowed eyes watching Jack through dark lashes -- that prompted Jack to suck his thumb slowly. Very slowly.

"Your tales are usually tall, Jack, but that one just hit the atmosphere. Any minute now, we'll have a call from UNIT confirming it." Owen turned to his left, sneering at the girls beside him. "Come on. You two don't honestly believe that, do you?"

Toshiko looked reassured but Gwen bit her bottom lip and glanced over at Jack. "Maybe."

Owen snorted. "It's a load of codswallop."

"Well..." Gwen sighed and shrugged, not finishing the sentence. "What do you think, Ianto?"

Ianto stared into his cardboard carton of rice. Jack couldn't see it, but he was pretty sure Ianto was smiling. "No accounting for the tastes of aliens."


End file.
